The Color Purple

Tragically, I've been away from Times Square this entire week. If you must know, a twitch has set into into my right eye, probably from the lack of minimal wattage my retinas have become used to. But would it really be fair to deprive you from your fix? I didn't think so. So, it's time to dig into the archives of my camera's memory card.

And...drumroll please...

Ta da!



What? Are you underwhelmed by this poster for HBO's latest "multimedia event?" Look, times are tough. They were trying to save on what must be astoundingly expensive multicolored printing on a poster that's 4x2 miles. And, at this point, the powers-that-be have surely decided that the fiscally responsible thing to do would be to have the company run by the best, freest labor there is. So the job fell to one person to find the color and that person, obviously, was the NYU intern.

I salute you, NYU intern. For selecting the first color that you saw in your NYU-merch-infested backpack, for spelling everything correctly, and for using the word multimedia. You are worth your weight in the free Diet Coke Home Box Office is plying you with.

And thank you, HBO Marketing Team, for taking what is probably an insightful look at an incredibly fascinating disease and advertising it in the least attractive way possible. No, the sheer size and audacious location of your ad doesn't make up for it. But then again, if you want to throw some of those Diet Cokes my way...I may be persuaded to change my mind.

A Parting Gift

As you may have gathered, there is hardly anything that can take me away from my cherished Times Square. In fact, I've been thinking about penning a Motown song to that effect...
Nothing you could say, could tear me away from Elmo (from Elmo).
Nothing you could do, 'cause there's not one, but two...of Elmo (two Elmos).

I digress. The point is only wild horses or jury duty could keep me from sharing my devotion to all things Times Square via this blog. Inconceivably, one of those two caveats has come to be (I'll let you imagine which one on your own).

This means that I won't be able to be your Virtual TS Tour Guide for the next couple of weeks. But as soon I'm back in Tourist Inferno where I belong, be sure that this blog will once again be your go-to destination for the 10,000-watt madness that you crave (don't deny it).

In the meantime, I leave you with this. The fanciest building in all of Times Square:



Where were you, Bow-Tie Building when I needed a date to the prom? I so would have been the coolest person there. Who wants to go with some stupid kid who can book a hotel room when I could have gone with a whole series of rooms?

We could have had something, BTB (Can I call you that? Or are you too fancy? Lord BTB, perhaps?). You with your chiseled body and steely...well, steel. Mugging with me for my mom's camera. Touchingly finding a way to buy me a corsage despite your lack of limbs.

But I suppose now we'll just have to make do with staring wistfully at each other, always left to ponder the might-have-beens of our bygone youth.

It's Official: They Are Building An Army

If I had to break down the entire conceit of this blog into one word, that word would be: WHY?

And really never has that point been made clearer to me than last night, when...

On my way home, I naturally strolled by Pimp Hat Elmo. And then, a few blocks later, Elmo 2.0. But only as I was just about to uneventfully go down the subway stairs did I witness this:



No, that's not a reflection you see. That is indeed a third Elmo within spitting distance of the second one. Now Pimp Hat Elmo obviously has a gimmick with his choice of chapeau, but is the demand for fake Elmos really SO out-of-control that there needs to be two of them staked out across the street from one another?

I had only just taken that picture when this happened:



Oh, yeah. Cookie Monster was there too. Why not? Note the matching Christmas stockings as handbags. Classy.

And then:



I'm sorry this picture is not better, but I think even my camera could not handle the WTF level of having Elmo 3, Cookie Monster, and Minnie Mouse standing in front of Ann Taylor Loft. Reasons being:

a) Minnie?! Girl, what are you doing hanging out with naked monsters? Where is Mickey during all this, huh? Probably sitting at home, all unsuspecting, wearing pants.



For shame, Min. Your slip is showing and the way Elmo is undressing you with his eyes is, quite frankly, creepy.

b) The matching backpacks and Christmas stockings lead me to believe that Minnie, Cookie Monster and Elmo 2.0 and 3.0 are most likely working together. Um, guys, in all honesty I think it would have been much more financially gainful for one of you to have chosen a different costume. What about Big Bird? Grover? Snuffleupagus? Could you just not decide who got the coveted Elmo spot that day? Or is this a case of the great Muppet costume variety shortage this country is obviously suffering from? Or did Elmo 2.0 just need red-furred back-up to take on Pimp Hat Elmo after their previous scuffle?

c) None of these characters would shop at Ann Taylor Loft. For one thing, three of them are naked. For another, I don't think that any of their occupations require business casual attire. Wait, let's see: Hyperactive monster with a blood sugar problem, child monster, child monster again, lady rodent. Nope.

As disturbing as all this is, this post would not be complete if I didn't tell you that my morning consisted of seeing a man in a Stewie head and trenchcoat, handing out coupons to Friday's. Don't believe me?



But that is another blog for another day.

The T-Shirt Code

Oh, Planet Hollywood. Just when I think I may not have material for a new blog post, you ride in on your crazy bombastic self and give me this:



Tourists and laymen alike, please remain calm and orderly when I issue this decree: the Holy Grail of these parts has been found. That's right, it is "The Ultimate New York Souvenir" and it resides within the hallowed walls of our very own Planet Hollywood.

The only problem is that, much like a Dan Brown novel, there are not going to be blatant signs as to which of the fine items in Planet Hollywood is The Ultimate Souvenir. So, to assist you, I shall point out ancient clues that were placed around the city centuries ago by the secret cult, Foresighti. Although these clues have been in plain sight and on New York's most famous landmarks for all these years, no one has had the key to piecing them together...until now.

Are you ready? Good. That'll just be $49.95 for the tour heart-pounding race against time. I hope you brought sneakers. And some sort of heavy sack to trade out with the Ultimate Souvenir so that the walls of Planet Hollywood don't cave in on you. Yeah, your unnecessarily enormous tourist backpack should do just fine.

When Times Square Gets Obtuse

I know that Times Square isn't the only place in the world where one of these exists and that it's actually a chain:



Regardless, I think it needs to be discussed.

Now I'm a fan of Forrest Gump as much as the next person cognizant in 1994, but I never really considered it a big merchandising tie-in sort of flick. And even if I had, I think the obvious choice would have been Forrest-branded boxes of chocolates, naturally. Maybe followed by Lt. Dan wheelchairs. But a whole theme restaurant centered around what is basically a dramatic saga? Do they want me to cry in my broiled shrimp, remembering poor Bubba? And also, why the hell is that shrimp in the logo wearing a top hat from his middle school production of A Christmas Carol?

But, look, if obscure merchandising is where you want to go, Times Square, why stop there? Why not reference all sorts of critically acclaimed films with your tourist's mecca. For example:

- a Rainman-themed casino, where they encourage you to count cards and play for K-Mart vouchers (I sense a sponsorship opportunity!).
- a Roots-themed travel agency/psychiatric office, perfect for that emotional getaway to your trauma-inducing past.
- a Godfather-themed....well, you could really go crazy here: pizzeria, stables, kissing booth.
- Sophie's Choice-themed scratch-off Lottery cards. Good luck!
- Brokeback Mountain-themed camping supplies and/or marriages-of-convenience certificates.

Go for it, TS. It'll really class up the joint.

Get a Load of This

In case you haven't heard, the Sci Fi Channel announced a few weeks ago that it was changing its name to this:



The reason given was, and I quote, "we needed to cultivate a distinct point of view with a name that we could own that invites more people in and reflects our broader range of programming."

I don't know about this, SeePhee (seriously, that's how I'm going to pronounce it). First of all, I think you're alienating your core audience - geeks* - who probably will be very upset over this broad encouragement of a gross misspelling, annulling all those hours and hours they spent being insufferable grammar police. I mean, you might as well have just gone all the way and made your motto Imagine Gooder. Not only that, but one of the tenets of geekdom is that you really don't want to "invite more people in." For one thing, this will seriously devalue your overlording smarts and for another, inviting more people in usually means that your chances of getting beaten up have just skyrocketed. It's like you're hitting them right where they thought it was safe, SeePhee, like an only friend who has just sold out their secret treehouse hiding place to the town bullies.

Something else to keep in mind is that you're now alienating a large faction of the Polish community, since Syfy over there means "crap" and, more compellingly, is slang for everyone's favorite venereal disease: syphilis. Programming based around either of those two subjects could definitely be edgy and possibly broader. But then again, doesn't Discovery Channel deal with those in a scientific sense and VH-1 in a more literal sense?

I'm just gonna come out and say it. I think you had a good thing going with Sci Fi. This is like the equivalent of your punk rock phase, where you used Kool-Aid to dye a portion of your hair bright red and then spent all day sidling up to walls so your mom wouldn't see it. And didn't your lunch money get stolen anyway? Of course it did, since it was really just like putting a big magenta target on your head. Why not accept who you are and display it proudly? It's true what they say, you know. Chicks dig confidence. And, okay, just a hint of social skills doesn't hurt.

*I can say all these things because I self-identify.

Life is a Highway...I Want Off at the Nearest Exit

We all know this guy, right? Likes to party, has crazy hair, friend to used car salesman everywhere:



Unfortunately, this is what happens when you place that guy smack in the middle of Times Square:



Inflatable Guy Suicide is a real issue, folks. First of all, do these Party Guys have any say over where they get placed? Sure, that Yellow Guy above has palm trees behind him and a fine specimen of a suburban parking lot to spend his days in. But what about our TS Guy? He gets placed on a traffic pole smack in the middle of The Worst Intersection In the History of Mankind. Tourists were probably trying get him to hold still for a photograph. Taxis were probably smacking his limbs every minute or two. He likely even got asked if he wanted discount tickets to a Broadway show at least a dozen times a day.

Does anybody ever stop and ask these Party Guys how they feel? (I'm looking at you, Dingy Elmo.) Think about it: day in and day out, being nothing but the plaything of the wind, dancing no matter your mood, having insanely unmanageable hair.

So one day, our TS Party Guy looked out into the sea of cars, of humans and of nothingness. And he gave one final exuberant jerky dance move that turned into a leap in front of the first 18-wheeler that he saw.

This is all that remains of him. Please, a moment of silence. And next time you drive by a used car lot, remember our friend who danced until he could dance no more.

On the Shady Side of the Street

Many mornings, on Broadway between 43rd and 44th Street, there is a caravan of parked vans. Some of these vans appear, how shall I put this, a tad on the shady side. For example, on Tuesday there was this:



I'm not sure if the owner of this van just used the logic of, "If a Bud Light truck has Bud Lights in it, then my empty van has..." Or maybe it's owned by an entrepreneur who's planning on starting a hot new Manhattan night club, with the obvious first step being to buy a dingy white van and brand it with the club's brilliantly minimalist name. You know, to get the word around. Or maybe it's a really, really clever acronym: Suckers! Police Ain't Catching [my giant stash of] E.

On, Wednesday the Space van was nowhere to be found. There was, however, this:



Ah, yes. Well, at least with this one we know that Midnight Express is a group of Services and that it is Incorporated. But what could it possibly be expediting at midnight? Hot ladies? Hot dogs? Dustin Hoffman & Jon Voight? Is it actually a fancy horse-drawn carriage that turns into this van when the clock strikes 12? Or is it delivering something to the building it's parked in front of...the suspiciously inauspicious ESPN Zone. Maybe it's their week's shipment of hockey puck patties and they're not quite up to the standards of industry giant Knickerbocker Meat, Inc.

I expect to be reporting more on this story as it develops.

Kids These Days

No, those are not the Jonas Brothers. (You can tell because the piercing screams of 3,400 11-year-old girls have not shattered my camera lens.) They are, however, two teenage boys dressed in matching fedoras, hoodies in varying shades of purple, and tight, tight pants. One of which is pink.

It's a clear sign that I'm old, but I find this very odd. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I grew up at a time when teenage boys were cool if:
a) they didn't shower
b) wore excessive amounts of flannel
c) exposed yards and yards of boxers from the top of their pants

I'm definitely not saying that was better. In fact, I'm a little jealous of all the teenage girls these days who get to deal with boys who at least bathe (unless they play sparkly vampires...in which case, maybe not so much). But what about those pants, ladies? Honestly, doesn't it bother you just a little that they're probably tighter than yours? I mean men, you know, should have some bits to squeeze in there.

But then again, I had a childhood that proudly displayed this as the ultimate symbol of manliness:


Sadly, I could not find a full-length picture, but his legs do in fact end in furry boots.

So maybe we've just come full circle after all.

Strong Enough For a Man...

OMG, you guys! It's The Most Dangerous Game On TV...The P.H. One! Holy crap, they must do perilous stunts involving litmus tests and Secret deodorant formulas. Maybe the whole show takes place in an evil laboratory...wait, it's MTV...an evil high school chemistry class! And during a routine lab exercise, one geeky kid finds out the difference between bases and acids and then uses this vital information to take sweet revenge on the blond cheerleader who has tortured her since 7th grade.

Man, that sounds good. Way better than the story of an MTV graphic designer with serious spacing issues.

Ricoh...Suavé

Wow, Ricoh. Times Square's Only 100% Solar and Wind Powered Billboard, huh? That's very admirable. Very forward-thinking of you. Very green if you will.

Except that, uh, this billboard is made of cardboard, has no moving parts, and is not lit up. So by solar-powered, do you mean that I can see it by the light of day? Cause if that's the case, I may have to call shenanigans, sir, since that would mean that many of Times Square's treasures are in fact "solar-powered:" the Scientology-approved shish kabob carts, Kenny G.'s face on those crazy Bertelsmann ads, the 34.6 people that ask me if I like comedy every day. In fact, solar-powered by your definition goes back to before the dawn of time. Get it?! Dawn...

Okay, fine, that was lame. But so is your sign, Ricoh.* So is your sign.

*In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I once had a job where one of my responsibilities was to call in for repairs whenever a certain Ricoh color printer went down. Which happened at least every other day. But looking at this sign, maybe the damn printer was solar-powered and if I had only taken it out for a stroll every morning it wouldn't have given me any problems at all. Huh...

You're So Vain

This is the NASDAQ building:



Those little square rectangles underneath the word 'NASDAQ' are flat-screen TVs. And on them are:



That's right, it's a live feed of the NASDAQ building. I don't quite know why that's necessary...but here are some hypotheses:

1) Given the economic status quo, the building is so shocked to not have burst into flames yet that it needs to keep checking itself for signs of smoke.
2) The building has decided to use this hectic time and place to self-reflect.
3) Instead of showing America the state of the economy, the building has decided to give comfort to walkers-by with the timeless consolation prize, "at least you're on TV!" spoken by Pat Sajak at 10-minute intervals.
4) The building has decided that if one camera adds 10 pounds, then maybe having one camera projected 8x will inflate you accordingly. That's right, Japan! We're okay! Please keep lending us money...
5) The building has recently given itself a paltry, recession-appropriate $1.5 million bonus and has decided to use the money to freshen up its exterior with some fancy new equipment. After all, what can really be done about the interior? Might as well look good, right? AND pour some money back into the electronics industry. Selfless, really.
And bonus reason #6) The building is hoping to get some folksy singer/songwriter to pen a ditty about its excessive vanity...and then sell the secret identity of itself for $100K in 20 years. Jack Johnson, are you listening?

Always Read the Fine Print

When confronted with this:



...the first thing I think is...OMFG. What could it possibly mean?! Now. Serving. Breakfast? Which word is the emphasis on? What is the subject of this sentence? What's a breakfast?

Thankfully, Planet Hollywood is so aware of its audience base that it has included a footnote on this poster. It reads: Visit the Host Stand for Details.

I immediately decided to forgo work yesterday to find out more about this baffling poster. A very, very nice and knowledgeable young lady explained to me that see, some people, when they wake up, they're hungry. And they want a meal (that's the breakfast part) and they want it to be served to them. So they go to a restaurant, like Planet Hollywood, where they sit down and a nice person brings them something called a menu. And then what happens is they have to read the menu. But the open-minded, open-hearted Planet Hollywood knows that not everyone can read, so that's why they also have big, beautiful pictures of all their dishes, too. And then...

Truth be told, I'm not doing this explanation justice. If you're anywhere in the New York area, I highly recommend visiting the Planet Hollywood host stand and asking them for details yourself. Actually, I would treat them like an all-around help desk. Bring them your questions about the city, the Spanish Revolution, Fermat's Last Theorem. I have full faith that anyone manning their host stand deserves to be a part of the world's most profound think tanks. But let's face it, they probably like their chicken caesar salad wrap discount too much to leave.

Today, I plan to bring a map and ask them to pinpoint exactly where Amelia Earhart's plane went down. I'll post an update with the answer soon!

They're Multiplying!

Last night, as expected, I rubbed elbows with Pimp Hat Elmo on my way through Times Square. Try not to hate too much.

But I had only walked two blocks when I was confronted with...ANOTHER Dingy Elmo. This one had no pimp hat and his nose looked a little worse for the wear, but there was no denying which red-haired muppet he was attempting to impersonate.

My first reaction was one of disbelief. But that quickly changed to one of hope. If there's enough room for two Elmo impostors within a two-block radius, then surely the economy can't be doing that bad! Hell, maybe fake muppeteering is a booming industry. Maybe it can be penned into Obama's economy plan.

Although, upon closer inspection of the situation, I have to admit that Pimp Hat Elmo looked a little distraught. His Pimp Hat was askew and he was speaking mournfully to the hot dog vendor when I walked past (no, he did not sound Elmo-like in the least). And Dingy Elmo 2.0 not only had a scuffed up nose, but was missing a purse...

Maybe there was an Elmo-on-Elmo scuffle and I missed it! Or...maybe they're doing an all-Elmo version of Fight Club. We are in the theater district after all and, if the sea of children I had to wade through after a Dora the Explorer show let out at Radio City yesterday is any indication, I feel like that show might do well. Subversive yet accessible, exploring the age-old philosophical quandary, maybe there is an angry Elmo inside us all.

Street Meat Approved By Tom Cruise

Why, yes. The umbrella above that gyro stand is advertising Dianetics, the book written by Scientology founder and possible greatest practical joker ever, L. Ron Hubbard. This makes me think that this must be the street stand to the stars.

After all, have you ever met a Scientologist who wasn't famous? No. Because, and you read this breaking news here first, your SAG card comes with a Scientology brochure and a point system. 20 movies on your imdb resume and you get the baby alien patch; the embroidery looks an awful lot like that cute little thing that was birthed in Alien. 50+ movies as a bit or character actor (and a couple dozen Emaciated Mints boxes sold) and you've graduated to the No Prozac patch. From now on, you are going to channel any negative or depressed emotions in a much healthier way: by getting your agent to up your paycheck.

Once you've reached anything over $10 million per film, you're beyond patches, my friend. Now you're free to practice free-falling on upholstery, chastising beloved morning talk show hosts on national television, and making some of the biggest box office bombs of all time. And you'll still be everyone's favorite movie star, like, ever*! After all, aliens are on your side and so is your natural non-drug-induced zest for life.

That's also when you'll get the privilege of buying what can only be the Most Amazing Gyro (Lamb & Chicken!) Mankind Has to Offer.

Excuse me, I think I have to go book an audition.

*As per your publicist

I Want to Love You...S.C.B.D.

Professor Edwardo Alvorado is a musician who plays in the Times Square station. He is very elderly and kind of adorable and so I can't make fun of him. I can, however, make fun of the manufacturers of the dolls that he is accompanied by:



First, we have what appears to be Louis Armstrong in a camouflage suit. Not really my thing, but okay. Then we have a Swiss Miss with a red violin. She's a little creepy but she's not giving me a hell of a lot to work with.

But then we have the piece de resistance: the ever-popular Slutty Cowgirl Baby Doll, complete with gyrating hips, belly shirt and glowing pink belt buckle. I can't quite get my head around why someone would manufacture this, but here are some hypotheses:

1) It was a tie-in to that short-lived animated series Coyote Ugly Babies. They make our dreams come true.
2) There were brief talks about 1999 Britney foraying into country music but the idea was soon nipped in the bud. Unfortunately, someone forgot to loop the merchandising people in on that.
3) It was a prop from the little-seen Chucky: Slow Southern Style.
4) Billy Ray Cyrus once had a crazy notion to take over the world with this Achy Breaky Heart Line-Dancing Sweetheart™. Though it didn't take, his dreams would soon come true anyway courtesy of his life-sized domination-bot, Miley FX™.
5) Honestly, this doesn't seem any crazier of an idea than babies that grow in root vegetable patches or babies that can have full Dolly Parton make-up applied with a rag and cold water. Conclusion: It was an 80s toy that just never got the marketing behind it that it deserved.

Here's a quick little taste of S.C.B.D. in action:

With Great Power...

Behold the Times Square Spider-Man.

Now, although this man also charges hardworking Times Square folk money to take pictures with him à la Dingy Elmo, I have to give him some props. Dude hits the gym. I think he takes that whole "With great power, comes great responsibility" thing seriously as he's filling out that suit in a Tobey-Maguire-after-6-months-with-a-personal-trainer way.

Unfortunately, that is about where the similarities end. I don't recall seeing Spidey carrying a red felt bag of singles while he was climbing skyscrapers (for practicality's sake, he totally would have rocked a custom-made fanny pack). And the suit has some patches of discoloration that I think Peter Parker, master seamstress that he was, would not have put up with. Unfortunately, as I was walking by him, I was privy to exactly where that discoloration was coming from. Behold Spider-Man's Ass Sweat.

[I would have inserted a picture here but I decided to spare you from adding to the horror of what is already a Monday morning. You're welcome.]

I suppose I can find it in my heart to understand a little bit. After all, that suit is pure spandex and it must be effin' hot. But still...not something I wanted to see. It made his performance just a little less believable. For me.

I just have to put down here one other phenomenon I've noticed. Naked Cowboy and TS Spidey...I have NEVER seen them in Times Square at the same time. Is there room for more than one set of rock-hard abs on display in the Square? Or is there more to this than meets the eye?! I'm sensing an origin story blockbuster movie, people. Get Sam Raimi on the line. After all, do we really need a Spider-Man 4 when we can have a Spider-Man/Naked Cowboy Crossover 1?

A Little Something for the Orwell Fans

See, the sign above says Times Square 2009, but the graphics are screaming Welcome to 1984.

First of all, that 'confetti' looks like it was imported straight from my 4th grade classroom copy of Print Shop (and what a fine banner border it made). That bizarre electric ball is definitely either from the opening sequence of Weird Science or Out of This World. And that hot pink checkerboard pattern behind the 'Welcome' screen is reminding me of some sort of twisted board game conglomeration of Battleship and Girl Talk, brainstormed by a coked-out Hasbro CEO in order to make a game about blowing up ships palatable to little girls.



The best part though is the catchphrase: "The Ball Drops Here." I'm guessing this is meant to be a clever twist on "The Buck Stops Here"...which was made popular by President Harry Truman. In the 40s. This is rather anachronistic of you, Times Square. I would have gone with the much more thematic "Where's the Ball?" It would have really tied everything together nicely.

In case you can't make it out here to see it in all it's glory, here's a video of the sign.


On second thought, Welcome to 1984 IS a rather clever literary reference to signify Times Square. Well played, TS masterminds. Well played.

Runaway Bride

Yesterday was Wednesday. It was raining. And yet, I saw a bride running (read: briskly walking, as it is impossible to actually run) through Times Square. She didn't have an umbrella. She didn't have an entourage, though I think the middle-aged frizzy-haired woman running behind her might have been her mother. And, yet, there she was, amongst all the tourists, and Dingy Elmo, and every other Times Square character of dubious stability.

Though this is actually not the first time I've ever seen a bride here (I saw what I will officially christen "The Most Miserable Bride Ever" being forced to step out of a limo and take pictures in front of the big TV last year. I do not have high hopes that marriage is currently going strong.), I cannot think of a logical reason why someone would be in Times Square on their wedding day.

But here are some of my hypotheses:

1) She is going to spend every day this week re-enacting a Julia Roberts movie. Tomorrow I expect to see her on the corner of 43rd and 8th in fishnets and leopard-print thigh-highs giggling maniacally at a necklace box. Perhaps I missed her stint on Tuesday as a 19th century housemaid in love with her bipolar employee.
2) She is the most inconspicuous shoplifter Kleinfeld Bridal has ever had.
3) The WE network has decided to cater their programming towards that large audience sector that loves action-adventure/wedding horror stories. Hence, their new show Project Amazing Bridezilla Race.
4) She has just discovered that the man she was marrying was all wrong and that she's actually been in love with her best friend this whole time who is currently on his way to the airport where he will take a flight to the island known as Never Get Another Chance To Talk To Him Again (which you might recognize from Lost.) Only if she runs fast enough, and only if her mother is hilariously stereotypical enough, will she be able to make it to JFK in time to fix the ruin she has heaped upon herself.
5) She was really concerned that I wouldn't have any material to write about today. Thanks, bride lady!

Since the action was too fast to get a good picture, here is a strikingly accurate rendition of what I saw:

You don't have to tell me...I know I've missed my calling in life.

Update: Not 5 hours after I posted this, I was on my way home and saw a bride AND a groom in Times Square. This time I managed to get a picture, albeit from a crummy angle.


This makes me think that option #3 has a shot at being accurate. Also, that people have the most psychotic notions of what makes for a cherished wedding memory.

What Does It All Mean?

I have been staring at this two-sided sign for the past year and I still haven't figured out what it means:



Clearly, it's an advertisement for Bertelsmann Media Worldwide. And it involves album covers. But what do all these albums have in common? Here's a list of what's up there:

Elvis: 2nd to None (taking up two slots)
Christina Aguilera Stripped
TLC 3D
Millie Millie
Hummer H3
Blu Cantrell Bittersweet
Kenny G. [The Name of This Album is Irrelevant]
Elvis 30 #1 Hits
Bone Crusher Attenchun!
The Chieftains Down the Old Plank Road

At first I thought that maybe they're all hit albums. But then I decided to have more faith in the American public than to believe that an album entitled Attenchun! would make its way to the top of the charts. Generous, I know. Also, it took me four Google pages to even get a correct hit for Millie.

Clearly, it's not that they're all recent albums. Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes has been dead for 7 years. And I'm just going to go ahead and pretend that Kenny G. has retired his sax and that it now hangs reverently in a Lite FM office somewhere.

And then, there's the Hummer H3 ad. I don't get it. Did Bertelsmann need to take out an ad to pay for their ad? Are they proclaiming their individuality by boldly taking a stand against being eco-conscious? Did they go out for an exorbitant lunch and then decide to cut back by holding out on that one small square of ad space?

It boggles my mind, friends. Every day.